


Sleeping Dragons

by Henndra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6838762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Henndra/pseuds/Henndra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malfoy had a habit of falling asleep everywhere. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was studying or somewhere half between both. It was getting out of hand, even Hermione was starting to look bad by comparison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Dragons

Malfoy had a habit of falling asleep everywhere. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was studying or somewhere half between both. It was getting out of hand, even Hermione was starting to look bad by comparison.

Harry couldn’t help watch. Sometimes from afar, sometimes from across the 8th year common room, some time beside him in Potions, when the poor sod had fallen asleep mid quill stroke.

Draco had come back to Hogwarts with a surprising amount of determination after the war, focusing on his studies, only seeming to sneer at his Arithmancy homework, or sometimes at the smell of his perfectly completed potions.

Harry had, had enough half way through first semester. “Here, take this one.”

“Huh? What?” Draco rose half asleep, green ink staining the right side of his jaw. Resisting the urge to smudge it off his face Harry gave Draco the Quick-Notes-Quill instead.

“So you don’t miss anything,” Harry explained dumbly before forcing his whole body to turn back to Professor Slughorn’s lecture.

Draco stayed awake the rest of the class but after tentatively stroking the quills feather, took it with him to his next class.

 

The 8th year boys shared a singular dorm room in the old Alchemy tower, Draco and Harry specifically shared about one metre of floor space between their beds. 

This, ashamedly, was where Harry watched Draco the most. Not when he was studying, because Malfoy never studied in the boys dorm, but when Draco finally came to rest. 

Malfoy stayed in the library until curfew and then out in the common till at least midnight. The night before a test, you wouldn’t see him until you woke up the next morning to find him curled up before the fire on the plush red settee, parchment strewn about him like dust.

“Mate?” Ron whispered hesitantly, “What are you doing?”

“Just tidying up a bit!” Harry whispered back.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” 

Harry shrugged and continued on anyway, sorting Malfoy’s papers, piling up all his books, stacking his things together on the coffee table in front of him, so that when Malfoy woke up he’d be ready to go.

“The common room’s tidier this way anyway,” Harry reasoned. 

Ron just rolled his shoulder and snorted, rolling his eyes as if to say ‘If you say so!’

“You ready boys?” Hermione cried upon coming down the stairs. The trio leaving together so amicably none of which noticed Malfoy’s blonde head shaking itself as if back into consciousness, from all the noise.

 

“Drink this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Drink this, you’ll feel better.”  
“No!”

“Excuse me? No? Malfoy!- It’s tea for Merlin’s sake I’m not trying to poison you!”

Draco glowered for a moment, before resting his head in his hand and blinking wearily. “I don’t need tea Potter!”

“It has honey and lemon in it, it’ll help, I promise!” Harry thrust the cup forward once more.

Malfoy who’d had pushed himself to a state of disrepair, half sneered, opened his mouth as if to say something cutting, merely blinked once more, and coughed throatily, wincing at the pain it caused his throat to do so.

Harry handed him the tea again and Draco took it, sipping it tentatively before allowing the steam to roll up into his face.

Harry took that as a small victory and slung his book-bag over his shoulder, heading off to class.

 

“Are you trying to get into his pants? Or be his mother?” Ron unhelpfully comments one day, to which Harry splutters his mouth of pumpkin juice in a dribbling cascade back into his glass.

“Really Ron?!” Harry exclaimed, looking over shoulder, hoping Malfoy wasn’t around to hear it.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a line somewhere. He’s a grown man, let him find his own damn blankets!”

“It was cold last night, and I happened to be coming back late, what was I supposed to do? Levitate him upstairs? Like that wouldn’t have been worse!” Harry’s argues, “It’s called being nice, you should try it sometime, yeah?”

“Yeah alright,” Ron smirks into his own cup before switching his gaze across the table to Hermione who shares with him the same knowing look. “If I’m being nice, then I’ll say this Harry, as a piece of advice, maybe tone it down a notch.”

All Harry could do was sit and stew, grumbling into his toast and when Malfoy finally came down to join the rest of his peers on the 8th year table, it was merely coincidental that Harry nearly choked on it. 

 

By the time the colder weather came in Harry was bone tired. Wondering to the upteenth time why he came back to repeat his final year, he took to walk around the grounds. 

It was cold and bleak; Christmas was approaching. And it looked as if…

“Oh great, it’s snowing.” Harry mumbled to no one in particular. 

He considered the skyscape, and the path he was taking. Looking around, he could go back to the castle now and wait out the weather from the hearth of the common room, or he could risk the distance and make it to Hagrid's just as the weather really picked up.

Turning on his heels to head towards Hagrid's and that’s when he stops him, the black of his robes cutting contrast to the washed out bleakness of their surroundings. And damn it if he isn’t sleeping.

“Draco! Draco! Wake up! It’s starting to snow.” He leans down to grab Malfoy by the shoulders, the leather bound notebook in Malfoy’s hands dropping from his grip as Harry shakes him awake.

They’re mere inches apart when Draco’s grey eyes burst open, so close that Harry can smell the scent that lingers across his skin, the wet of his hair and feel the ghost of his breath as Draco takes a beat to acclimatize to his surroundings. 

“Potter. It’s snowing!” He states.

“Let’s get you up to the castle then yeah? Before you catch another cold.” Harry offers his right hand, steadying him with his left still clasped upon his shoulder.

Draco takes his hand and hoists himself up, “Don’t be silly Potter. I’m fine!” 

“Sure you are.” Harry concedes, picking up Malfoy’s things and guiding him back to courtyard. “Been doing a great job of that, I’m sure.”

Picking up on Harry’s sarcasm, Malfoy crosses his arms indignantly, “Of course not Potter. I have to make sure I do good on the second chance I’ve been given! The second chance you helped give me! If you’ll remember!”

Harry knows that at this point he should be arguing with Malfoy but part of him dares to hope that maybe Draco’s pushing himself to do Harry proud and even if it’s only true a little bit even his dream, Harry can’t help but feel warmed all over by the idea.

“Of course Malfoy, you’re right. Let’s head up anyway yeah?” Harry sighs, letting his focus slip too long down the weather worn pink lips that despite looking chapped, Harry admits to himself he’d rather kiss. 

Malfoy says nothing, instead looking at him like he’s lost the plot. 

By the time they reach the 8th year tower, Malfoy’s shaking, trembling really, his robes soaked through. Ushering him inside the common room and marching him up the steps to the boys room, Harry promises to bring him PepperUp potion and hot cocoa as long as he changes into something warmer and gets some rest.

 

Malfoy’s words haunt him. Walking his way back from the kitchen, mug in one hand, potion bottle in the other, he can’t help think that maybe he’s been wasting the year away. 

Sure, Malfoy got a second chance when Harry spoke for him during the trials but he’s literally come back from death for his second chance at life and what was he doing about it? 

On the run last year, hiding out in the forest of Dean, he would have killed to be doing homework instead Horcrux hunting. Whether it was listening to Professor Binns drone in Magical History or bent over a particularly difficult potion, surely anything was better than being dead.

By the time he’d started climbing the tower staircase he was almost absolutely resolute about trying harder on school work over the course of the rest of the year. Come the return of Christmas break and Harry wouldn’t fight for that Auror position, just as his own Father had done, surely.

Seamus, Dean and Terry Boot came through the dorm room door in a fit of boyish snickering, Macmillan and Ron came up being them a moment later in an equally disheveled fit of giggles.  

“What’s going on?” He asked Ron with a nudge of his elbow. 

Ron just glance back at the door and followed the other boys down, leaving Harry as confused as the boy he opened the door to find. 

“What was all that about?” Harry gestured to the closing door.

“No idea, woke me up though.” Malfoy sighed, before turning back, belly down upon his mattress, readjusting himself atop the covers.

“I think I know why they were laughing…” Is all Harry thinks to say, as he places his load down beside their beds upon Malfoy’s side table.

Harry’s insides flip, Draco looks proper fit in his Weasley jumper. The dark green wool suits his grey trousers nicely and he can only guess that Draco had only put it on by accident. The big bold ‘H’ is front to back, perfectly visible to all those who walk past as Malfoy sleeps.

“You’re wearing my sweater.” He states stupidly.

Draco frowns looking down upon his chest. 

“My Weasley one, you’ve got a giant H for Harry on the back of you.” Harry explains.

Quicker than Harry thought possible, Draco jumps from the bed and starts ripping at his hemline, pulling the jumper up and over his head, and in his haste his shirt vest along with it.

It isn’t till he’s thrown the jumper at Harry that Malfoy realizes he’s topless, by then he’s completely paled with shock. “I must have picked it up from the floor. Slytherin colours and all, yeah?”

“Right,” Harry offers a weak smile, his mind too caught up on the milky whiteness of Malfoy’s skin. There’s the faintest sliver of scars etched across his chest and with a turn of guilt erupting through him he thinks to apologizing, before reprimanding himself. Pointing them out right now is probably not a good idea, least Malfoy know how much he was checking out Draco’s lean, hard chest.

Harry looks away as he hands Draco the singlet vest back, but not before noticing how lovely and flushed he looks with embarrassment.

_ ‘Merlin help me.’ _

 

Harry pushed himself harder when he got back from Winter Break. It was horrible, and he felt miserable most of the time but he spent a great deal more time in the library which was good. He could still at keep an eye on Malfoy if nothing else.

By the time exams came round however, Harry realized that maybe he’d made a mistake.

“I’m really proud of you Harry. You’ve been working really hard, I’m surprised.” Hermione beamed at him, walking hand in hand with Ron down the corridors to their next joint examination. 

“Can’t believe it’s almost over. We’ll never come back to Hogwarts after this year, there will be no more repeating years after this.” Ron squeezed Hermione’s hand reassuringly.

“Let’s hope not.” Hermione teased. 

“Mhmm,” Harry added out of the pure urge to say something.

“We’ll all leave here and venture out into that world and do great things, or live different lives, maybe some of us will have children, maybe some of us will collect exotic birds!”

“That’d be Luna!” Ron murmurs happily.

“The point is, that without Voldemort hanging over our heads, the possibilities are endless!” Hermione exclaims and Harry opens the doors to the Great Hall with the nagging sensation that he should have spent more time around Draco Malfoy.

 

The final exam for the year comes to a close with a great resounding whoop! The cheers from all students, seventh year and eighth years clamouring about for hugs, claps of camaraderie and excitement.

“We’ve done it!” Dean and Seamus cry together from the other side of the room.

“Thank god!” He can hear Ginny sigh. 

Harry can’t help but shake the tiny bit of nervousness overwhelming him suddenly. He’s not the Chosen One anymore, he has no predestined path, he just has his test scores and his hopes. Sure the name ‘Harry Potter’ could get him a lot of places, but only his skill could keep him there.

The eighth years decide to head down to Hogsmeade straight after, some of the girls hurrying about to apply several layers of make up, the boys standing idly by just happy to be out of their school robes. 

Seamus is happily telling anyone and everyone who will listen just how blindingly drunk he’s going to get tonight when he catches sight of Draco coming down the stairs, dressed down in something soft and creamy looking atop his usual sort of black pants. He’s smiling, blindingly so and Harry can’t help think that maybe he’s never seen Malfoy smile like this, and he can’t stop looking at it, not even when Draco stride straight over to him and grabs him by the scruff of his shirt, not wasting a moment longer to kiss him. 

Draco Malfoy is kissing him. 

He finds his feet, and pulls onto the the soft cardigan thing Malfoy is wearing bringing him closer, kissing him back with equal force. Kissing him so hard he has to breath through his nose a little in order to not pass out from oxygen loss. 

“You intolerable git,” Malfoy whispers when they slide apart. 

“Pardon?” Harry asks a bit dazed.

“Do you know how hard it was to focus with you barking up my tree all year?” Draco is smiling still and so Harry forgets to ask _‘What?_ ’

Malfoy kisses him again and he’s suddenly so happy he doesn’t care as the rest of the room cheers at them or tells them to ‘get a bloody room already’. 

He holds Malfoy’s jaw in his hands, and tilts them both a little, deepening the kiss, tracing his lips against every inch of those lips until his friends give up on waiting for them and start leaving.

That night neither of them slept much at all.


End file.
